A Different River
by Queengoddess
Summary: PostDeathly Hallows. Slash. As the summary contains spoilers I put it in the actual document. Go there to find it.
1. Prologue

**Title:** A different river.  
**Period: **A few months after DH.  
**Rating:** PG-13 mostly. Might turn R eventually, but I make no promises.  
**Pairings:** Eventually Harry/Draco. Ron/Hermione, Dean/Luna, mentions of Harry/Ginny.  
**Warnings:** SPOILERS! Slash.  
**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and his friends doesn't belong to me. I don't make any money  
out of writing and posting this stuff.  
**Summary: **After defeating Voldemort and taking some well-deserved time off the trio and their friends return to Hogwarts for their seventh and last year. Everything is as it has always been - and everything has changed forever, irrevocably. Relationships are tested, reassessed and redefined as Harry and his companions face the dawn of a new era.

This is a multi-chaptered kind of deal, but it won't turn epic – don't you worry.

My humble thanks to kind and patient beta Laureen without whom this fic would never have been posted.

**A different river – Prologue**

_"Coming back to the place you started from is not the same as never leaving." - Terry Pratchett  
_

_  
_  
"How do you reckon they'll sort the new kids now that the Hat's in ashes?" Ron slouched in his seat, looking supremely comfortable with his long legs sprawled in front of him. The sun coming through the compartment window glinted golden in his unkempt hair. Next to him, Hermione looked up from her book – _Numbers, and Their Meaning –_ and gave him a weary look.

"The Sorting Hat isn't in ashes, Ron. Voldemort's – oh, give it up, it's not like the name's jinxed anymore – his fire didn't damage it at all. Professor Flitwick found it on the ground outside the castle after the battle, and it's perfectly fine. Honestly, don't you ever pay attention to what's going on?"

"Had other things on my mind, hadn't I?" Ron's voice lost its cheerful tone, and he looked away. Harry, who had followed the exchange from his seat opposite the pair, recognized the suddenly stricken look on Hermione's face – he shared the anguish it betrayed as the memories came trickling back, like cold water trickling in under a closed door. He did not try to shut them out, but braced himself for the emotional onslaught, hoping that it would be over soon.

_The battle of Hogwarts and its aftermath: a nauseating blend of exhaustion, relief and grief. Vivid images of faces contorted by fear and pain or, worse yet, faces devoid of any emotion, forever frozen, empty masks... Dead bodies in neat rows: Colin Creevey next to Lupin next to Tonks, next to Fred._

"How…" Hermione hesitated, "how is George?" After the battle she had rushed of to Australia to find her parents and restore their memories. Harry had gone with Ron and his family to the Burrow, and there they had received word that Hermione would spend the rest of the summer in France. Harry guessed he could understand her parents – had he had a daughter, he would have liked to keep her close after what had happened, too. But it meant that neither him nor Ron had seen Hermione until they met at King's Cross a few hours ago, and she had very little idea of what had happened with their friends since they parted.

Ron kept his eyes firmly locked on the green landscape swishing by outside the window, but his voice was steady as he answered. "He's doing all right, all things considered. Opened the shop again, just a week after – after the battle. Percy's staying in the flat too, keeping an eye on him. Says George works harder than he, Percy, ever did at the Ministry. Dad figures he just wants to keep himself occupied, not having to think about…" He paused. "He… is not the same, though."

No, he wouldn't be, Harry thought. His twin dead– half of him gone – how could he be the same? The guilt formed a hard knot in his stomach, as it always did whenever he thought of those who had died in that final stand against Voldemort and his Death Eaters just a few months ago. Irrational as the feeling was – and on some level, he knew that it was just that – he could not shake it. Maybe if he had been stronger, smarter, better, maybe then Fred would still be alive…

"It'll be weird coming back, won't it?"

Harry lifted his head and looked at Ron. His best friend met Harry's gaze steadily, and in his eyes there was no blame, no anger. Harry nodded gratefully. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I guess it will."

Hermione, who had taken Ron's hand, shook her head slowly. "We saw Voldemort die in the Great Hall. And tonight… tonight we're having dinner there. We'll have lessons in the classrooms where we fought for our lives. Where… " Her voice faltered.

"Where others gave up their lives," Harry finished grimly.

"Yes…"

Silence fell in the compartment as the train rushed on, leaving a trail of white smoke in its wake. Ron stared out the window and Hermione returned to her book, though she kept her fingers firmly entwined with Ron's. Harry watched them enviously. Ginny was somewhere on the train, and for a moment he longed to go and find her, sit next to her and talk about all those things they had not yet had time to talk about…

But he dismissed the thought – it was too early for that. Too much had happened in the last year, had changed. For now, he needed to be alone. Needed to, for once, exist and live only for himself. Ginny had kept her distance, though he caught her looking at him with that blazing look of hers every now and then, and he thought that maybe she understood. Understood as much as anyone, who was not him, could ever understand.

The door to the compartment slid open and Luna, followed by Dean, stepped inside with a brilliant, albeit vague, smile. "Hello," she called happily, sitting down next to Harry as Dean stuffed both their bags onto the shelves above the seats.

"Luna! Dean! It's so good to see you!" Hermione beamed, seemingly relieved at the interruption, and even Ron broke away from his reverie.

"All right, mate?" he asked Dean.

"Yeah. Summer's been pretty quiet, compared to last semester."

"He came to visit me, you know," Luna told Harry, pointing at Dean. "We had to move to a new house, Dad and I, because the old one was quite demolished. Apparently a couple of Death Eaters tore it down when Dad would not stop printing the truth about You-Know-Who."

"That's… a shame," Harry said awkwardly. To his complete lack of surprise, Mr. Lovegood had failed to tell his daughter the truth about what had happened when their house was destroyed. But, though he felt little sympathy for the wizard who had betrayed them to the Death Eaters, he saw no reason to burden Luna with that particular fact.

"Yes, it is a pity, because we lost quite a lot of very interesting artifacts, but I really like our new house, it's right up the hill from the Weasley's. And Dean helped us move," she added with another bright smile.

Ron smirked, winking at Dean, who flushed but still managed to look rather pleased with himself. "We saw Neville," he told them. "He was surrounded by a huge crowd of kids, wanting to know all about how he beheaded that snake. Said he'd join us later."

"He's a bit of a hero now, isn't he?" Luna noted, picking up what seemed to be the latest edition of the Quibbler, a drawn picture of a huge, green-blue creature splashed over the front page. "Having led Dumbledore's Army last year."

"We're heroes, too," Ron said, sounding somewhat affronted. "We were looking for Horcruxes! And anyway, you and Ginny helped him, didn't you? So you're heroes as well."

"I don't know," Luna shrugged, not looking up from her paper. "I spent a lot of the time locked up in Malfoy Manor, you know, and Ginny was sent home, so –"

"Talking about Malfoy Manor," Dean interrupted, "look who's here."

They looked the way he pointed, and sure enough, there was Draco Malfoy, walking past the compartment. He looked healthier than the last time Harry had seen him, just a few weeks after the defeat of Voldemort, but his face still looked strangely drawn, and it lacked its usual sneer. He was alone, his bag slung over his right shoulder.

"I didn't know he'd be coming back," Hermione said quietly.

Ron snorted. "He's got some nerve, showing his ugly face here after what he and his family's done. I can't believe that McGonagall's letting all those Slytherins return. You shouldn't have spoken in his and his parents' defence, Harry, maybe they'd be locked up in Azkaban with their Death Eater pals now."

"Well, I – " Harry started to say, but was cut off by Hermione.

"Of course McGonagall's letting them return. Most of them haven't done anything; they can't help who their parents are."

"No, but you didn't see them lining up to fight You-Know-Who, did you?" Dean asked seriously. "And Parkinson, she wanted us to hand Harry over, remember?"

Hermione blinked, looking shocked. "She did?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Stood up while you were down in the Chamber of Secrets and told everyone that they should give me to Voldemort. No one else seemed to think it was a very good idea, though."

"Well, she's a cow," Hermione admitted. "But the rest of them… I mean, they're not very nice, but it's not like they're all evil, is it?"

"Yes, it is," Ron muttered. "Listen, Hermione," he added, when she gave him an angry stare, "when did we ever meet someone from Slytherin who was even half-way decent?"

"Slughorn's not so bad," Hermione said immediately. "He fought with us. And –"

"– and Snape," Harry finished quietly.

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I guess Snape turned out to be all right in the end." Ron waved his hand dismissively. "So that's two out of how many? I still say the Slytherins got nothing to do at Hogwarts."

Dean yawned and rolled his shoulders. "I think most of them aren't coming back in any case. You know, those who stayed in school up until the last battle are just returning for the last month before taking the N.E.W.T.s. Figure they learned enough, even with the teachers we had last year…"

"But that's less than half of our year," Hermione said with a frown. "How are –"

But before she could finish, Ron gave a low cry: "Hey, I can see Hogwarts!"

They all turned and peered out through the window. As they talked, twilight had slowly fallen outside, and now they could see the towers of Hogwarts castle as dark silhouettes against the darkening sky.

"We better get changed," Dean said, but none of them moved, eyes locked on the achingly familiar sight.

Ron shook his head. "Blimey. I just can't believe we're back."


	2. All those missing faces

**A Different River - ****Chapter 1**

_"Life does not cease to be funny when people die anymore than it ceases to be serious when people laugh." _

_- George Bernard Shaw_

It was a strange thing getting off the train and climbing into the carriages, and it was a strange thing hearing Hagrid calling for all first years to follow him down to the lake. It was a strange thing entering the Great Hall through mended gates, and it was a strange thing sitting at the Gryffindor table just a few meters away from where Voldemort's limp body had fallen to the floor.

Everything looked just the same as it always did, and that was strange, too. The last time Harry sat at these tables the Great Hall was a chaotic mess, blood and broken furniture and emeralds spilled out over the flagstones. Families hugging and crying, glad for their living, devastated for their dead. Now the floor had been cleaned, by magic or by house elves, and the furniture had been repaired or replaced. The bodies had been moved. Everything was as it had always been.

Except for the missing faces. In the headmaster's chair now sat a headmistress, and in Snape's a robust looking young woman with brown hair tied back in a long plait. There were other new faces as well, replacing teachers whose names Harry never knew. The guilt returned momentarily – they had died for him, and he never knew their names, couldn't remember what they looked like.

"Professor Vector is not here," Hermione whispered, looking upset. "Do you know if he is –"

"He's dead," Neville, who had disentangled himself from a group of fifth-years and sat down next to Ron, said. "My granny told me. Got crushed under a collapsing wall."

All around them similar conversations were carried out in hushed voices. "– that's her little brother, over there –", "– they couldn't find enough pieces to bury him –", "– say her mum's gone made from grief –". Harry wanted to shut out the voices, hear no more, but some kind of perverse masochism forced him to strain his ear, trying to catch every word. When Professor Sprout stepped through the doors, first-years in tow, and silence fell in the hall, he sagged with relief.

And the hat sang, and it was just the same as always – the brave to Gryffindor, the clever to Ravenclaw, the hard-working to Hufflefuff, and the ambitious to Slytherin. And the sorting commenced and it was just the same as it had always been: pale young faces, anticipation, apprehension, relief when a house was called and applause broke out.

When 'Whitepea, Rosie' had taken her seat at the Ravenclaw table, McGonagall stood and the cheering and smatter of clapping hands died out. She let her eyes sweep over the assembled students – for a long moment she did not speak, and when she finally did her voice was unusually hoarse. "I cannot say how glad I am to see all of you gathered here today. I don't believe I need to speak of the losses we have suffered in the last year – you know if far too well. But we are here, and Hogwarts are still open for all who seek to educate their minds, as was always the intention of our four noble founders."

"Yeah, open to all, that was exactly what out noble founder Slytherin intended," muttered Ron under his breath. Hermione gave him a reproachful stare which he ignored.

"I would like to welcome you all here, and remind that this is a place of learning and developing and that we judge no one here by anything else than their own deeds and accomplishments."

"Does that mean no beating on the Death Eater kids? Pity." In spite of himself, Harry had to grin at Ron's remark. Hermione, however, was not amused and waved her hand irritably.

Behind the staff table, McGonagall carried on, quite oblivious to the whispered exchange. "We are one school, and shall stand united as one school, much as we did during the battle against… Lord Voldemort." She paused, as squeals of dismay and fear erupted in the Hall.

"Does that mean that the Slytherins aren't a part of the school, then, seeing as they didn't join us –"

"Ron, _shut up._"

"I would ask of you to join me in a toast to all those who fought and fell for Hogwarts and its students in June. We acknowledge their sacrifice and I hope that we can find some comfort in the knowledge that we, by returning here, honor what they believed in, and that their deaths were not in vain." She flicked her wand and the golden goblets on the tables immediately filled with red wine. Harry grabbed his goblet and stood, quickly followed by Ron and Hermione, then the rest of the students. For a moment, McGonagall's eyes locked into his, and she gave him a brief nod, before calling out the names of those who had died in the battle against Voldemort.

Her voice rang out loud and clear in the otherwise completely quiet room. Harry glanced at Ron as McGonagall read out Fred's name, and noticed that Hermione had, once again, taken his hand, gripping it firmly, lending silent support. Ron stood tall, his eyes unblinking and filled with both furious grief and fierce pride. In the seat next to him Harry could see Lavender Brown's face shine with tears.

Finally, McGonagall looked up from her list. "And lastly I would like to mention a man who gave up more than any other for this school, and who did so without any recognition, for the nature of his work was such that he had to conduct it in secret. For a year he served us as Headmaster, and it was by no fault of his that this year shall be remembered with horror by those who lived here at the time; indeed, had he not been here to protect us in silence we would have suffered immeasurably more." She cleared her throat. "To Severus Snape, and to all others who died defending this school."

They raised their glasses, and drank deep. Over the rim of his goblet, Harry caught sight of Draco Malfoy who was drinking with everybody else. He sat alone to the side of the Slytherin table, his face as pale as ever in the flickering candlelight. Though he was too far away for Harry to be sure, it seemed to him that Draco's hand shook slightly as he put the goblet back on the table. The feeling of utter strangeness returned – the feeling that everything was just the same, and that everything was completely, irrevocably changed. Draco, so familiar in his black robes, sitting alone, staring defiantly straight ahead, ignoring the dirty glares being thrown in his direction every now and then.

McGonagall had sat down, flicked her wand again and as the plates filled with food, Harry turned to Hermione and Ron. "I think Malfoy is the only Slytherin from our year who's here."

"Really?" Ron peered at the other table and grinned. "Hey, I think you're right. Cool."

"Well, the Slytherins liked how the school was run last, didn't they?" Dean said. "But I thought Malfoy stayed the whole semester, too. I mean, I know he was home for Easter, but I figured he came back here afterwards."

"He and his parents were locked up in the Manor after we escaped," Harry said quietly. "Voldemort wasn't happy that they let us get away."

"Serves them right." There was no trace of pity in Dean's voice. "See how they like being locked up."

Harry, who had seen Lucius Malfoy's face after Voldemort had exacted the punishment for their escape, did not reply. He did not feel sorry for Draco's father, who had willingly chosen to align himself with the Dark Lord, but wondered what Draco had been forced to endure. He had not forgotten that the Slytherin had refused to name him, Ron and Hermione back when they were brought before him and his family, though it would have brought the Malfoys back into Voldemort's good graces.

And why hadn't he? There had been a moment, just after the Wizengamot hearing where the Malfoys had been granted amnesty due to their collaboration with Harry during the last battle, when he had almost asked. Lingering in the corridor to have a word with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry had come face to face with Draco as he emerged from the hearing room, his parents in tow.

He had stopped when he spotted Harry. Draco looked very tired, with a greyish tinge to his unnaturally pale face, his eyes underlined by dark bags. Yet he held his head high, like his parents, and he did not avert his eyes, but met Harry's steadily, almost defiantly. For a heartbeat they stood like that, staring at each other, neither of them knowing what to say, both of them (or so Harry thought) feeling that something _should_ be said. What do you say then to someone who was your enemy, but is your enemy no longer, yet is not a friend either?

Finally, Draco opened his mouth, at the same time as Harry cleared his throat to ask the question that had gone unadressed during the hearing – and Lucius Malfoy placed his hand on his son's shoulder, urging him forward. As the pair passed Harry, the older of them gave him a curt nod; Draco did not offer him another look. Narcissa came after them and she, like her son, paused when she laid eyes on Harry.

"Draco told us that you saved his life twice during the battle of Hogwarts," she said.

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"I see. Then it would appear that you have repaid your life-debt to us before it was even owed."

"Eh. I guess?" Life-debts were still something of a mystery to Harry, and so far, he had not wasted a single second considering the possible significance of him saving Draco, or Narcissa saving him.

"And still you testified in our defense." She studied him intently for another moment, then nodded once, as if she had found the answer to some unspoken question. Without another word, she swept past Harry and continued down the corridor after her husband and child.

Harry had not seen any of them since, not until he spotted Draco on the Hogwarts Express. And now they sat here, both of them, back in the Great Hall, and everything was just as it had always been, and everything was different.

"Hey, pass the potatoes, will you, mate?" Ron's cheerful voice roused Harry from his reverie and he quickly lifted the bowl and put it down next to his friend.

As they made their way through dinner, talk turned from the battle and its aftermath, to the coming school year and Harry felt himself relax, forgetting about the Malfoys. "I always knew Hermione would make Head Girl," Neville was saying next to him. "But who's Head Boy?"

"Ernie MacMillian," Ron answered, his mouth stuffed with Yorkshire pudding.

"Shame you didn't get it, mate," Dean offered, but Ron just shook his head with a grin.

"Nah, I didn't want it in the first place. Too much work. This year I just want to take it easy and relax."

"Relax?" Hermione sounded incredulous. "We've got our N.E.W.T.s coming up! You won't have time to relax!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "C'mon. Compared to fighting You-Know-Who, exams will be a stroll in the park. Don't see why we have to take them anyway, heroes shouldn't have to study... "

"No, because job opportunities for 'heroes' are _so_ very common –"

Later that evening, Harry was laying in his bed, listening to the even rhythm of the others' breathing. Ron was mumbling in his sleep, muttering something that sounded very much like 'Kreacher'.

Harry smiled. The house elf, whom he had inherited from Sirius, was back at Grimmuald Place, taking care of the house until Harry returned. Worried that the elf might feel lonely, Harry had offered to free him and get him a job at Hogwarts, but the mere suggestion had seemed highly offensive to Kreacher, who had stated, in no uncertain terms, that he would rather stay and take care of his beloved master Regulus' former home.

Home.

Harry had not returned to Privet Drive to visit his Uncle and Aunt. He had considered it – Dudley had seemed genuinely concerned for his safety when they parted before his seventeenth birthday – but he had no real wish to. He had sent them a card instead, assuring them that he was safe and sound, and that the danger was over. For better and for worse – well, mostly for the better – that was no longer his home. Neither was Grimmauld Place. Maybe it would be, one day, but for now…

For now, Hogwarts was more than enough.


	3. Reverse

**A Different River - Chapter two**

"_When there is no enemy within, the enemies outside cannot hurt you."_

_- African proverb_

"We're having classes with Ginny's year," Hermione said, peering over her timetable. "Well, that makes sense, since there's so few of us left."

"Yeah, I guess," Ron said, helping himself to sausage. At Hermione's incredulous stare he added defensively: "What? I'm hungry!"

"But that's your fifth sausage in less than ten minutes! It shouldn't be possible for one person to eat so much, you ought to explode!"

"Well, just because you have a stomach the size of a really tiny teacup that doesn't mean that we all do."

Hermione blinked, then snorted. "Honestly, Ron, was that best you could think of? Sometimes I really don't understand why I…"

"Why you love me?"

For a moment, Hermione seemed to struggle with herself, but then she returned Ron's smile. "Well, yes." And she bent down to place a somewhat nervous kiss on Ron's cheek. Then, blushing, she turned on her heel and hurried away, her stuffed schoolbag bouncing against her back.

"So, you're really together now? About time." Dean smirked and gave Ron a thumbs-up.

Ron tried to look modest but failed spectacularly. "I guess we are. I mean, we haven't really talked about it, she was in France the whole summer, but… " His voice trailed off, and he looked uncertainly at Harry. "You don't think she's, er, changed her mind, do you?"

Harry shook his head, grinning. "Nah. Only if you don't stop eating so much she might… " Seeing Ron glancing suspiciously at his fork, he quickly added. "I wasn't serious."

"No…" Nevertheless Ron pushed away his half-finished plate and stood up. "Better hurry anyway, class starts in about fifteen minutes. We've got Defense against the 

Dark Arts," he added for the benefit of Seamus, Dean, and Parvati.

"Wish I'd taken that," Seamus muttered.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "After last year it would have been a piece of cake passing it with flying colors. Bet it's more fun than Arithmancy, half the time I have no idea what Vector – " He abruptly stopped, seemingly realizing that he would not have to worry about not understanding Professor Vector anymore. "He was a good teacher, really."

"See you later, then," Harry said hastily. "C'mon, Ron…"

They arrived to the classroom more than five minutes early, and were soon joined in the corridor outside it by Ernie Macmillan and Hermione who came down the stairs chatting easily with each other.

"Harry, Ron," Ernie said solemnly, shaking both their hands. "So good to see you again. Have a good summer?"

"Yeah, it was a blast. I particularly enjoyed all the funerals," Ron said, eyeing the other with suspicion. "I really like what you've done with your hair today, Hermione."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You really like that I've done absolutely nothing with it just as always?"

"Er…" Ron gave Harry a pleading look, but Harry carefully avoided meeting his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, it looks great."

"Professor McGonagall has filled us in on our new duties as Head Boy and Girl," Hermione said pointedly. "We just came from her office."

"Right." And Ron offered Ernie, who had followed the exchange with obvious confusion, an embarrassed smile. "So, was your summer okay, then?"

Ernie, still bemused, nodded a little uncertainly. "Yes, it was quite - I mean, as you say, the funerals, it has been a true ordeal, hasn't it? Terrible."

Before he had time to further elaborate on the horrors of the holidays, Ginny and two Gryffindor boys joined them, soon followed by three Slytherins Harry had never seen before and a group of Ravenclaws consisting of two girls he recognized from his sixth year and Neville's version of Dumbledore's army, two unknown boys from 

Ginny's year, and Luna, who smiled happily as she spotted them.

Before they had time to talk to her, the door to the classroom opened to reveal the young witch with brown hair whom Harry had seen in Snape's seat last night and whom McGonagall had introduced as Professor Amalthea Capella. Furtively eyeing her, they filed inside and found themselves places as she closed the door. The Slytherins took a table, Ernie joined Harry, Ron and Hermione, while Luna sat down with Ginny and the two Gryffindor boys and the four remaining Ravenclaws seated themselves around the table closest to the teacher's desk, which Professor Capella was now leaning against.

She smiled at them, displaying a row of even, brilliantly white teeth. "As you can see this class is slightly bigger than it would normally be, but I'm sure we'll all manage splendidly anyway. Now, those of you who are doing their seventh year for the first time have had a… rather interesting introduction to your N.E.W.T. class last year, but we'll try to make up for what time you might have lost. Today – " She fell silent as the door opened again and Draco Malfoy stepped inside.

He did not look at any of the other students as he stepped into the room and seated himself at an empty table. "Sorry I'm late, Professor," he said quietly.

"And we're sorry you're here at all, Malfoy," Harry heard one of Ginny's two friends mutter, not bothering to keep his voice down.

Professor Capella gave him a disapproving look, then turned back to Draco. "Just see to that it doesn't happen again, Mr. - ?"

"Draco Malfoy, Professor."

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy, I was just about to explain today's lesson. I would like to begin by testing your general knowledge and skills, just to get a sense of how far you have progressed in your training. We'll start off with a little quiz and then continue with some non-verbal spell-casting. Any questions on that?"

There were none, so she flicked her wand once and a pile of parchments started handing themselves out to the students. Harry looked down at his question sheet as it dropped on the table before him: _1. Describe: a) the appearance and behavior of Dementors, and b) the appropriate defense spell used against them. _

Well, it could have been worse, Harry thought optimistically and reached for his quill. Next to him Hermione was already scribbling furiously. On the other side of the table, Ernie looked up and winked at Harry. "Easy, thanks to you," he mouthed, 

tapping his parchment.

For a few minutes nothing could be heard, except for the rasp of quills against parchment. Capella had sat down at her desk and was reading a leather-bound book, thick enough to last even Hermione a few days. Harry had reached the third question – _What is the difference between a jinx and a curse? _– when the silence was interrupted by a hesitant knock on the door.

"Come in," called Capella and in slunk a tiny Hufflepuff girl with blonde pig-tails.

"The Headmistress says that to ask you if you could please come up to the Ravenclaw common room, Professor," squeaked the girl.

Capella stood up, frowning. "Right now? Is there a problem?"

"I don't know, Professor. Professor McGonagall just said to get you, Professor."

"I see." She surveyed the class. "Well, you just carry on without me. I trust the Head Boy and Girl to ensure that there is no cheating."

"Certainly, Professor," Ernie said, and Hermione nodded, giving Harry and Ron a stern glance, which Harry thought was rather unfair.

"Good." And she was gone.

Slowly the writing resumed, and for another five minutes nothing happened, except for Ron trying to convince Hermione to let him have a look at her fifth answer, a request she refused with a furious, whispered snarl.

"Hey, Malfoy," a voice suddenly called. "Think you could help me with question eight? Seeing as you are an expert on the subject."

Harry looked up and saw that one of the Ravenclaw girls he knew, Vera Douglas, was staring at Draco with a cold smile. Next to her, the other three Ravenclaws were smirking as well. Harry looked down at his own question sheet and found question eight: _Describe the three Unforgivable Curses and how, if at all, they can be deflected._

He glanced at Draco, who had not looked up, but was still filling out his answers as if he had not heard the question.

"Didn't you hear her, Malfoy?" That was Ginny's friend again. "See, we all had a bit 

of experience with those curses last year, but none of us have, well, you know, actually used them. Tell me, did any of the people you tortured manage to, what does it say, _deflect_ the Cruciatus?"

Harry was careful not to look at Luna – she was the only one who knew that Harry himself had once used that particular curse.

Draco was still writing, but the hand not holding the quill was clenched to a tight fist, and Harry thought he could see the pale face grow even whiter. He did not know what to feel – there was a part of him, a small, wild part more animal than human that enjoyed seeing Draco forced to endure what Harry had had to go through on countless occasions, more often than not because of Draco himself.

"Who taught you how to use them, anyway? Was it You-Know-Who himself, or your filthy, pureblood-loving father?"

Now Draco lifted his head, and the gray eyes blazed. "Keep your fat mouth shut about my father."

"What are you going to do, run to your Death Eater buddies for help? Oh, I forgot – they're all locked up, aren't they? How come you haven't joined them, Malfoy? Came crawling back, begging for mercy, that's what I hear. Was your father really crying at the hearing? Disgusting cowards, the lot of you."

The room had fallen deadly silent as the Gryffindor boy spoke. Harry glanced at Ginny: she was not laughing, but did not seem particularly interested in stopping the boy from continuing either. Hermione looked unhappy, but both Ernie and Ron appeared to be grimly satisfied.

"Cat got your tongue, Malfoy? Guess you're not so tough now that you haven't all those thugs backing you up." The Gryffindor was grinning broadly now, encouraged by the silent approval offered by the on-lookers.

"Whereas you're really tough now that you've got nothing to fear," Draco snarled. "Didn't really see much of you in the last battle. Tell me, how many first-years did you knock down trying to get out of the castle first of all?"

"You - !" The boy got to his feet, groping for his wand.

Before he had time to really think it through, Harry leapt off the bench and placed himself in the middle of the room, between Draco and the other boy, wand in hand. "All right, that's enough."

The Gryffindor – and everyone else in the room – stared at Harry with various shades of disbelief. But then the boy grinned. "Oh, c'mon, Potter. We won't get in trouble, no one will ever know."

"Just put your wand away. And give it a rest, okay?"

"What?" Now the boy looked positively baffled. "Give it a rest?"

"Yeah. Lay off him. Let him be."

"But... C'mon, Potter, it's Malfoy; he's a bloody Death Eater. I mean, the things he's done..."

_Draco's face, contorted by fear and despair. A cold, far too familiar voice hissing: "Do it, Draco, or you will take his place."_

Harry clenched his teeth. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he said curtly, returning to his seat. "Just leave him alone."

Still seething, the boy sat down, muttering darkly to his friend. Ginny still seemed unconcerned, but Luna gave Harry a small nod from over their table. He forced a small smile, and picked up his quill.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron whispered next to him. "I mean, he's right, it's only Malfoy. He's done loads of worse things to you. Saving his life doesn't mean you have to walk around protecting him from everything, especially not stuff he deserves."

"Oh, be quiet, Ron," Hermione said. "It was good, really," she added in Harry's direction. "That was really out of order, but I just didn't know what to do."

"Right." Harry could feel their eyes on him – could feel a pair of pale, gray eyes trying to burn a hole in his neck – but he kept his head down, determinately staring at the questions before him. When Professor Capella returned two minutes later everything was quiet again.

The Prefects' bathroom was empty, just as Draco had hoped. Why in Merlin's name they had allowed him to remain a prefect was quite beyond him – as was the fact that they had let him return to Hogwarts at all – but he was not about to complain if 

that gave him opportunity to use the luxurious swimming pool – and to get away from everyone else. Dropping his clothes to one side, he sank down in the lavender scented foam, sighing as the warm water enveloped his body.

It was late, past ten already, and he should probably be in bed, but the mere thought left a sour taste of bile in his mouth.

Draco had come to dread sleep in the last few months. He was glad that he had been assigned to a small single bedroom - though since when Hogwarts had single bedrooms he could not say – rather than forced to share a dormitory with the new seventh year Slytherins. At least now no one could hear him scream when Nagini advanced, when Rowles writhed under the Cruciatus curse, when the Dark Lord slowly turned and faced him, his eyes red like newly spilt blood…

"Ooooh, I hoped you would come back!"

His eyes flew open and he looked wildly around him, startled by the sudden words. He relaxed when he spotted Moaning Myrtle's half-transparent form floating in the air a few feet away.

"It's you," he said, unable to hide the relief in his voice.

She giggled. "Of course it's me. Who else would it be?" Her eyes grew wide. "Were you expecting someone? A girl?"

_Yes, of course, girls were lining up to take a bath with Draco Malfoy, failed servant of the dead and detested Dark Lord..._

"No," he said. "I just... " _I'm just a little jumpy since half the school wants to hex the living daylight out of me. And the other half would like to watch. _"I didn't expect to see you here."

Moaning Myrtle made a sad little noise. "I've been coming here ever so often, hoping to see you. You've been away." She swooped down lower, hovering just inches above the surface. "Where did you go?"

"Home. I didn't come to school after the Easter holidays last semester."

"Oh." Showing what for Myrtle must be considerable tact, she did not press the issue. "But you're staying the whole year this time, aren't you?"

"Yes." His mother had insisted on him going back to school. Even when it was clear 

that neither Draco nor his parents would be sent to Azkaban had he believed that he would be invited back to Hogwarts, but the letter arrived with the booklist in July just as usual. Draco, having no trouble whatsoever foreseeing what kind of reception he could expect, had not been keen on going, but, as Narcissa pointed out: he had nothing else to do. Now that a career working for the Dark Lord was out of the picture, he needed his N.E.W.T.s if he ever hoped to get a job.

Of course, considering the vast wealth his family commanded, he would probably never need a job – and considering his family's reputation he would probably never find an employer anyway - but the idea of being unable to apply for one should the fancy strike him was intolerable.

Besides, Malfoys simply did not _hide_.

Myrtle giggled. "You're not like Harry Potter at all."

Draco blinked. Of all the extremely obvious statements to make... "What makes you say that?"

"Well, he was really shy when I saw him in the bath once. He almost drowned himself in foam to stop me from getting the tiniest little glimpse of skin. But you're not shy at all." She batted her eyes at him.

Harry Potter, blushingly trying to hide from a ghost? The thought was delicious, and Draco smirked. Of course Saint Potter would never want to find himself the goal for a dead girl's lust. That poor Weasley girl, she had probably never gotten to see any action at all...

Potter... What the hell was he up to anyway, standing up for Draco in class? Were his hero instincts now so honed that he just couldn't help himself from doing good? As if Draco needed his, or anyone else's, help. Yes, he was friendless and lonely, but that sure as hell did not mean that he needed the Chosen One to fend for him.

Back in the classroom he had felt... normal again, for the first time in over a year The setting was familiar, and the role was one he knew inside and out. This was something he knew he could deal with, and the insults were easily spilling over his lips. And then Harry Bloody Potter had suddenly jumped up and started shouting and everything that had seemed so familiar had turned strange and foreign again.

"You are very quiet tonight." Myrtle sounded petulant.

"Sorry. I'm just really tired." And as he spoke the words he realized that they were 

true. Sighing, he resigned to the fact that he would have to go to sleep this night too.

Myrtle politely turned her back towards him as he climbed out of the pool. When he was dressed and on his way through the door, she called to him: "Will you come and see me again?"

He turned to look at her. Behind the round glasses her eyes seemed abnormally large, and he had no trouble deciphering the hopeful expression on her face. "Yeah," he said. "I'll come and see you again."

Ten minutes later he pulled up the covers and rolled over on one side, reluctantly closing his eyes. But the visions he was expecting did not come. Instead, to his sleepy surprise, one new image kept returning, as if etched to his brain: Harry Potter, blushing in the bath.


End file.
